


Lash Out

by Angelwithbrokenwings



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:33:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwithbrokenwings/pseuds/Angelwithbrokenwings
Summary: Trouble ensues for Cal when he decides to interfer with the Stormtroopers punishments.
Kudos: 25





	Lash Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bucketofbarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketofbarnes/gifts).



> Includes mentions of violence - hitting of women and whipping as punishment.

Cal feels the disturbance in the force before he hears the scream. He turns around and is met with the sight of an older woman being forced to the ground. As she attempts to get up he sees the woman shoved to the ground again by the white boot of a stormtrooper. 

He doesn’t even think before he’s turning and running in their direction, tackling the clone to the floor. Climbing on top of him he feels rage as he swings back ready to punch before he’s grabbed from behind, two more troopers either side of him holding an arm each. 

The storm trooper on the ground gets to his feet, brushing off the dust from his armour before looking at Cal. “Get him to the square.” 

He struggles against them but ultimately knows his fate. Attacking a stormtrooper on Bracca means punishment. He stops struggling, resigning himself to his fate. He takes one look at the woman being helped to her feet by the others that had gathered round when the comotion had broken out. She shakes her head sadly but mouths a thank you before he’s being harshly pulled away and led to the square. 

He can see the pole in the middle, people slowly gathering around knowing that someone is about to be punished. The crowd isn’t prepared when they see the young red haired boy being yanked by each arm. There’s gasps and cries from them but they’re silenced as more guards stand in front of them, guns drawn and ready to fire at anyone who tries to intervene in a punishment again. 

Cal is dragged further in. He’s no longer fighting, resigned to his fate. He’s just glad he was able to save the older woman. He doesn’t even know her name but has seen her around Bracca before and couldn’t just stand by and watch as everyone else had done. His poncho and shirt are crudely ripped from his body, and he’s chained to the pole. Shivering against the cool air brushing against his skin he mentally prepares himself for what is about to happen. He calms his mind, attempting to block out the oncoming pain. He’s survived worse. He will survive this. 

He hears the boots approaching, turns to see the clone he’d attacked brandishing a whip in one hand. The stormtrooper cracks it against the floor, making the entire crowd and Cal wince. Cal closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath as with a flick of the wrist the whip is swung into the air and strikes him on his bare back. The clone strikes again, and again. 

Cal holds it together until the eighth strike. Letting out a guttural scream. This seems to give the clone a new found sense of satisfaction as he starts swinging the whip back again. In total CCal receives fifteen lashes. The trooper finally stops as another comes towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

They leave Cal hunched over the pole in the centre of the crowd breathing heavily, barely keeping himself upright if it weren’t for the support in front of him. The clone brandishing the whip turns to the crowd. “Let that be a warning. The next time anyone pulls something like that it’s your funeral.” The cold voice echoes in the silence as the stormtroopers leave and Prauf comes pushing through the crowd having heard of the small red haired boy being punished in the square. His heart breaks as he sees Cal broken and bleeding from the wounds on his back. 

A few people from the crown waste no time in running towards him, Prauf wasting no time joining them to untie Cal from the chains. He falls back but the older scrapper is there to catch him, as always. Prauf had been there for him from day one and he hadn’t let him down this time. 

Cal’s weak but manages soft apology as he looks up at his friend. “Couldn’t…” the young red head begins but is stopped by a gentle hush. He tries again, determined to explain his reckless action “couldn’t let her...get hurt” he says between gasps. 

Prauf holds him close, comforting him as best as he can while the other scrappers had gone to retrieve a stretcher used to take the injured to the makeshift infirmary. Cal is gently taken from Prauf’s arms and laid down on the stretcher carefully so as to not jostle his wounds and hurt him any further. “Let’s get him to Fisher” one of the scrappers instructs. Prauf gives a nod before they each move to a corner, lifting the stretcher and beginning their journey to the medics apartment. 

Fisher is startled as the door to her apartment and makeshift clinic busts open. She sees four scrappers carrying a stretcher with a small form laying shirtless and bloodied on top. It’s then she notices the fiery red hair of the boy she’s come to know so well. 

“It’s Cal!” one of the scrappers yell. Without a second thought Fisher is clearing her table of books and medical supplies, quickly wiping it down and instructing the scrappers to lay the boy down. 

Cal practically screams as he is jostled and moved onto the table. Grunting, unable to keep still as he writhes on the makeshift gurney. “You all can go, we’ve got it from here” Fisher yells over the commotion looking to Prauf for an explanation. “What the fuck happened to him?” 

“Got in the way of a trooper attacking some lady, trying to be the hero” Prauf explains. 

“Stupid boy.” If he wasn’t injured they all know he’d be getting a slap to the back of his head right about now. She leans down next to Cal sighing and running her hand through his hair in a comforting gesture. “It’s alright Cal, I’ve got you.” 

Cal continues to writhe and shout in pain, white knuckling the table as he clutches it tightly. Prauf winces, unable to contain himself, snaps at Fisher. “Can’t you give him something for the pain already?” 

“I’ve got Symoxin. Not ideal but it’ll have to do.” Fisher says as she finds the vial of medicine in the cabinet next to the empty syringes. She calculates the amount she needs estimating Cal’s weight. 

“Isn’t that poison?” Prauf exclaims, worried for his friend. 

“In concentrated doses yes, but it’s a good painkiller and it’s the only thing I’ve got, without it the shock could kill him” she explains cooly. Prauf doesn’t understand how she can be so calm, although he appreciates that one of them is collected enough to help Cal. 

Cal is squirming in agony, muttering apologies and begging the pain to stop. Fisher gently turns his head away and wipes the side of his neck, lowering the needle ready to inject the medicine. “Prauf, I know it’s difficult but you need to hold him down.” 

Prauf gulps, taking a deep breath before gently taking Cal’s head in his hands. “It’s alright Cal, it’ll be over soon.” As the needle enters the side of his neck Cal grunts again, then he stills. The tension leaves his body as he sinks into the table and lets out a small huff of air he was holding in. 

“I need you to monitor him, let me know if anything changes” Fisher explains as she sets out bowls of clean water, clean rags of cloth and various ointments and pastes. Being one of the only medics on Bracca had its perks when it came to getting things on the black market. She’d found certain contacts willing to help her smuggle medicine to use, although it wasn’t a steady influx of supplies and she would often make do with making her own remedies she’d learnt from various books and her years of training. 

Prauf grabbed a chair, sitting by Cal’s head. His eyes never leave the younger boy's face. He listened for the soft breaths Cal let out, counting over and over while Fisher worked. Fisher grabbed a few cloths, dumping them into the bowl of water and began cleaning out the wounds, ensuring there was no dirt or debris left behind, Bracca was teeming with bacteria. As she continued the water turned a darker shade of crimson. She shook her head, looking between Prauf and Cal. “He needs to be more careful…stubborn boy.” Prauf nods in agreement, once again his eyes never leaving his friend. 

Once the wounds were cleaned and Fisher was happy there was less risk of infection she grabbed another clean cloth and a bottle of antiseptic. Tipping the bottle upwards onto the cloth she soaked it before running it over the wounds once more. 

“I’m almost done, how’s he doing?” She asks, glancing at the pair. She can see the concern written over Prauf’s face, a stark contrast to the red haired boy sleeping peacefully on her table. 

“His breathing is still normal, he hasn't started to stir yet either.” 

“That’s good, the less pain he’s in the better. Fucking clones. They should learn to pick on someone their own size.” She shakes her head, finishing up with the antiseptic and grabbing another bottle. “I just need to use the wound glue on the deeper wounds and then he should be okay. He’ll have some nasty scars but without Bacta I can’t do much about them unfortunately.” 

“He’s no stranger to those” Prauf says sadly, running his finger lightly across the scar he’d received from a blaster when they’d first met. He remembered how tiny he was then, how pale and sickly he looked when it was inflamed and infected. 

Once done Fisher grabs a pillow, asking for Prauf’s help in gently lifting Cal’s head and sliding it underneath him to make him more comfortable. She bandages the wounds on Cal’s back, ensuring they stay clean and dry before draping a light blanket over him. 

After cleaning up she pulls up a chair to sit on the other side of her patient, the boy she’d come to treat like the son she’d lost all those years ago. “He’ll be out for a few more hours, you should get some rest for tomorrow.” 

Prauf nods, knowing she’s right but he can’t bring himself to move from the seat. She decides not to press the matter further, she doesn’t blame him either. She won’t be leaving his side any time soon. She leans in close, gently smoothing the younger boy's red hair back and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before leaning back and settling in for a long night.


End file.
